Prologue

The ambulance pushed deeper into Old Town, emergency beacon splashing red across white stucco walls, siren seesawing Euro-style. Root to fifth her musician ear noted despite her fear. Dani’s hand dropped to the seat for balance as the ambulance manoeuvred its way through the medieval maze of Cádiz, Spain. Late night revellers backed out of the way. No mean feat on cobblestone streets built for carts.

She wanted to scream. Move! Move faster! But these men, the paramedics, gave her pause.

The younger one was driving. He was slim with a pale complexion marred by acne scars. He avoided eye contact when she caught him glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

The older one sitting in the front passenger seat was not so reticent. Brutish in profile, his head and neck formed a solid block of flesh, as if a sculptor had forgotten to finish that part of him, making a turn of the head impossible. Except that he could, and when he did, he looked directly at her, eyes dead cold.

Dani held his stare, gut clenching under his scrutiny.

“¿Hay algún problema, señora?”

“No, señor. Pero, ¿más rápido?”

“¿Más rápido?” He looked back at the narrow road and shook his head. “Guiri loca,” he muttered under his breath. Guiri. Not a nice word for tourists.

He’s an ass. So chill. This is normal emergency procedure. Another language, another culture, another place, is all.

She reached back to touch the stretcher as much for her own comfort as for Jo’s. Her Jo. Brilliant. Some said visionary. She managed an NGO back home in Toronto. It was called HomeStart and it served newcomers, immigrants and refugees from all kinds of backgrounds, helping them find homes in their new city. Jo had achieved what few had at the time: changed an overwhelmingly white Anglo agency into one that not only reflected the people it served, but had become one with them. She was now called upon by organizations everywhere to share her path to success. This was her first invitation to Europe.

Dani shook her head slowly. And to think I pushed her to do this. Take a vacation. Finally. The first week Jo spent at her conference, as planned. The second week was going to be pure relaxation amid the beauty of southern Spain. Instead, she’s flat on her back on a stretcher being rushed to a hospital. Dani sighed, looking at her lying there, face pale, skin clammy. But a heart attack can happen anywhere, right? Even sitting on the couch at home. I should have made her take time off long before this. She grimaced. Yeah right. Like I can “make” Jo do anything.

She braced herself as the ambulance took another corner, siren bouncing off stone walls so close she could almost touch them. Jo moaned and Dani took her hand. Hang in there, kiddo. Corner after corner they turned, winding deeper and deeper like some slo-mo slalom into oblivion.